Sexperiment [18+]

CHAPTER EIGHT: HUSTLE HARD

"You did what?" Jordan nearly choked on her wine as she bubbled over with laughter across the table from me.

"I hit him with my car...barely. Just a little love tap," I explained, pushing around the pasta on my plate. Jordan was generally quite the cook, but the thought of eviction kept my appetite at bay. Even though, I knew Jordan would have no problems covering my half of the rent for a while, it still made me sick to my stomach to think about how much I was going to owe her. Even if she never collected, I'd still always feel indebted to her, even more so than I already did.

Jordan laughed harder and my frown deepened. "It's really not funny. It's going to cost me over a thousand bucks."

"What?" Jordan sat up straighter. "For a love tap? I've given real love taps for less, if you know what I mean." Jordan wiggled her perfectly manicured eyebrows and I smiled despite the sinking feeling in my gut.

Trailing her fingers along the neck of her wine glass, she met my eyes. "You know I can cover it for you? All you have to do is ask," she said softly.

"I know." I shook my head. "But I don't want to. I don't want to be twenty-four and not able to pay my own way...I don't...I just..." I sighed. "This isn't what I'd thought my life would look like right now."

Jordan moved around the table, leaning in to wrap her arms around me. "I know, baby girl. But shit happens. None of this is your fault...well, maybe running a guy down with your car was your fault." She laughed.

"Bitch." I yanked out of her grasp and she reached for me again, tightening her hold.

"You deserve a little help every now and again too, A. I love you. Let me do this."

I sucked in a breath, gripping one of her hands in mine. My eyes burned, touched by her gesture. It didn't surprise me, but I still managed to be moved by her. "Okay," I agreed, thankful that she didn't actually make me ask.

Letting me go, Jordan rounded the table, plopping back into her seat.

I smiled, finally feeling like I could breathe again. Scooping a large amount of pasta into my mouth, I was reminded of just how good a cook Jordan was as flavors exploded in my mouth. I was suddenly angry with myself for not eating it while it was hot.

"You are a woman of many gifts," I complimented, spooning more food into my face. The day had not been my best display of table manners.

Cleaning my plate at Ripley's speed, I lifted my head to find Jordan still watching me as she leisurely sipped her wine.

"What?" I asked, grabbing my napkin to clean my mouth.

"Nothing...I mean, I was thinking--"

"Well, that's never good. Did you hurt something?"

Jordan rolled her eyes. "Shut up. No, really. I think I have a way for you to earn some extra cash."

There was something unsettling in the way that she watched me, her words holding some daunting cryptic message. I straightened in my seat. "Why do I feel like you're about to ask to be my pimp?"

Jordan laughed, but the tension in her shoulders made the laughter seem even more unnerving.

"What is it, Jordi?"

Truth be told, I wasn't entirely against prostitution, but I had some demands: Luxury suits and vacation-home meet-ups only, a six figure salary with benefits and hot clientele. I arched a brow as Jordan's silence assured me that was not what she was going to be offering.

"Well, we're beta testing this program at work," she started and I rolled my eyes. It was no secret that I did not respect Jordan's career path. She made way too much money with her playground science degree. "I know you don't believe in what we do at Sexperience," she continued, "But the program pays participants ten grand for participating."

I blinked at her, wondering if my eyeballs actually flashed dollar signs. "Ten grand?"

"Yeah, just because you don't respect sexual science doesn't mean the rest of the world doesn't believe in it."

"Okay. I'm listening," I confessed, pushing my plate to the side. "What's the program?"

"Well, it's a dating program. We're trying to work out the kinks, but it's supposed to pair you with a significant other based on compatible personality and sexual chemistry. The program has steps that you follow with your partner that guarantees if you complete them, you'll be solidly matched with your soulmate."

I stared at her, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. The whole thing sounded ridiculous but ten grand wasn't something I was going to turn my nose up at. "Okay, tell me more."

Collecting my plate and silverware, I pushed away from the table, heading for the sink.

"It's ten weeks." Jordan followed my lead, picking up her plate and climbing to her feet. "I don't know the specific steps but..." She trailed off, and I turned staring at her expectantly.

"But what?" I asked, reaching out for the plate in her hands.

"You would have to kind of...have sex."

"Okay." I shrugged, placing all of the dishes into the sink and turning on the water. "Who cares? I'm not some delicate virgin."

Jordan nodded. "Yeah, but...the sex would be with a stranger."

"Oh." I tipped soap onto a sponge, thinking it over. I'd never really slept with a stranger before, but it didn't seem like the end of the world. Certainly, worth getting a foothold on some of my debt. "Okay," I said a little more cautiously.

"While an observation team watches," Jordan blurted.

"Say what, now?" I dropped my sponge into the sink and whirled on her.

"They have to monitor you. It's a study. It's all scientific, all above board," she explained.

I shook my head. "No way, it sounds perverted."

"It's not," Jordan insisted.

I frowned, still tempted by the money, mortified by the subject matter. "I don't know, Jordan. I don't think I'm the girl for that." I turned, fishing for my sponge.

"Okay, that's fine. I just...I thought I should mention it."

"Yeah. No. Thanks for telling me," I said, starting on one of the plates.

"Okay." Jordan moved, returning to the table and her wine.

I scrubbed each dish squeaky clean, my mind running in circles, toiling over what exactly I was willing to endure for ten thousand bucks. I'd played it safe my entire life, never taken any risks—I was an accountant for fucksake—and it hadn't gotten me anywhere that I wanted to be.

Placing the last dish into the drying tray, I grabbed a towel, drying my hands as I turned to stare at Jordan. She had taken all of the risks, she still did. She looked uncertainty in the face and gave it the finger. And here she was, sipping wine and bailing me out of my mess, living a life that she thoroughly enjoyed. No regrets.

I opened my mouth but closed it, losing my nerve. Sucking in a breath, I tried again, "I—I'm not saying yes... but, I'm not saying no either."

***